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Updated: June 17, 2025
There came a steady visitor, the lover of Sonka the Rudder, who came almost every day and sat whole hours through near his beloved, gazed upon her with languishing oriental eyes, sighed, grew faint and created scenes for her because she lives in a brothel, because she sins against the Sabbath, because she eats meat not prepared in the orthodox Hebrew manner, and because she has strayed from the family and the great Hebrew church.
"What about her?" exclaimed Foma, recalling his Pelageya, and for some reason or other his heart was filled with joy. "She sticks to him and bleeds him." "Is she a quiet one?" "She? Quiet as a fire. Seventy-five thousand roubles she blew out of his pocket like a feather!" "Oh! Who is she?" "Sonka Medinskaya, the architect's wife." "Great God!
"Blessed is the road where this soul goeth today," Yakov Tarasovich hummed softly, moving his nose, and he again whispered in his godson's ear: "Seventy-five thousand roubles is such a sum that you can demand so many escorts for it. Have you heard that Sonka is making arrangements for the laying of the corner-stone on the fifteenth? Just forty days after the death of your father."
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